They came out of the tanks like drowning corpses.
Twisted limbs. Rotted skin fused with wires. Veins glowing faint blue beneath transparent flesh. Some dragged themselves with broken fingers. Others moved in bursts—fast, too fast—like bones inside didn't belong to them anymore.
Elias backed up, sword raised, heart slamming in his chest.
"Unnatural. Abominations. Guilty."
The Mandate burned in his hand.
But the sword alone wasn't enough.
The first creature lunged—mouth wide, jaw split too far, eyes missing. Elias sliced clean through it, and the thing fell in two, twitching.
But for each one that dropped, three more came forward.
"This is what justice defers," Kells said, watching from behind glass. "When laws protect the wicked, and oversight sleeps. I built these from loopholes, Judge."
Another monster charged—bloated with syringes jammed into its spine. Elias dodged, turned, stabbed. The blade hissed against its corrupted skin, light flaring with holy fire.
A burst of blood splattered across his face.
He kept swinging.
Slash.
Step.
Turn.
Cut.
But the tide didn't stop.
They kept coming.
And every time he struck one down, the Mandate screamed louder. Not with victory—with fury. These were not individuals—they were proof. Evidence of everything wrong with the world.
The Break
After the twelfth kill, Elias's knees buckled.
His lungs were raw. His vision swam. His hand burned black, the Mandate flaring beyond what his body could carry.
"Sentence them all—"
"More—"
"Balance must be restored—"
"More—"
The voice grew fragmented. Conflicting. Too loud.
"You are justice."
"You are execution."
"You are not enough."
Elias screamed and swung blindly.
The blade struck a tank, and fluid burst out, splashing over him. It burned like acid, seeping into his wounds. The creatures howled—three of them piling onto him, pinning him down.
One shoved its hand into his chest—he felt bone crack.
His vision faded.
The Vision of Judgment
He fell through darkness.
And landed in the Court Beyond.
The ash courtroom. Black skies. Dead air. Silent witnesses.
He stood again in judge's robes, but weakened, bleeding.
Before him stood a mirror.
And in it—not himself, but a version of him with no face. No voice. Just a sword.
A weapon, not a man.
"Is this what you are?" the voice asked.
"A blade? Or a Judge?"
"You carry the Mandate, but do not wield it."
The reflection raised a hand—and light burst from the symbol in his palm. The mark bloomed open like an eye.
Elias Awakens the Mandate
Back in the warehouse—
Elias gasped, body arching off the ground.
The brand on his hand split open—not in pain, but in power. Light shot out, casting shadows like holy fire.
The Scalesword floated to his hand.
The monsters paused.
One by one, they saw their own reflections in Elias's glow—visions of their past selves before the mutation. Before the torture. Before Kells turned them into weapons.
Some dropped to their knees.
Others screamed and ran into the walls.
One reached for him—and disintegrated before touching the light.
Kells shouted something. Alarms blared. Backup protocols triggered. More tanks hissed open.
But Elias was already moving.
Not as a man. As a Mandate.